Wishbone is also very poor today [Comprehensive British and American]

A small Pacific island, the coordinates are 05 degrees south latitude, 30:[-] am local time.

A burst of howling music rang out in the student dormitory as if urging death, and the programmed smart curtains were pulled open, and the tropical sunlight that can blind people's eyes rushed into the room.

The person lying face down on the bed in the dormitory groaned in pain and cursed a few dirty words before pulling his body out of the bed like a carrot.

Rollins turned on the goddamn heavy metal rock with a complex code while getting dressed.

"Rumlo, get up!" By the way, the bed service was added.

Bullock turned over indifferently, and said in a very sober voice: "I have time, let's sleep for a while."

Fuck, you're still not an Omega!

Look at the Omega in the red house, all of them are well-dressed, eyeliner, foundation, lipstick, highlighter, and contouring are all intact, and they wear tights every day to show off in the market, as beautiful as a flower.

Look at you again, if you can sleep for 10 minutes more, you will definitely not sleep for 5 minutes, put on a big vest, black trousers and combat boots and go out the fuck, it is really embarrassing to our combat Omega!

Rollins complained about his roommate every day, and after a long time in his heart, he found out sadly:

In the combat department, there is only one Omega, Brock Rumlow.

fuck fuck fuck!That's the worst part, okay?

Brock ignored his roommate who had shaved in front of the mirror and started to apply sunscreen. He sat up at the last second, hooked his legs around the small ladder, and turned over from the dormitory bed on the upper and lower tables in a handstand.

He lifted the [-]kg dumbbell and began to press the iron without blushing or panting. He also turned on the TV in the dormitory, tuned to the school TV station, and watched the morning news.

Put down the barbell and get on the treadmill.

After finishing his self-study every morning, Rumlow walked to the bathroom unhurriedly to take a shower. When he passed Rollins, he let out a disdainful sentence from his nostrils:

"Hmph, bitch."

Rollins: "Rumlow fuck you!"

Rumlow's voice passed through the sound of dripping water, and was lightly sent to Rollins' ears: "Then you go to Gotham to find her, fifty dollars a time."

There was a slight pause in the voice, and Rumlow stuffed the toothbrush with strawberry-flavored toothpaste into his mouth, and continued indistinctly: But I haven’t been back to Gotham for nine years, she may have raised the price, don’t give my name, don’t give Discount. "

Rollins: I want to change dormitory TAT

After taking a shower, Brock picked up a clean towel and wiped the short hair on his head, walked out of the bathroom naked, and opened the wardrobe in the bedroom.

The wardrobe is divided into two parts, the left half is for personal belongings, and the right half is a passage, which connects the logistics department of the entire dormitory building. The access is controlled by artificial intelligence to ensure that there is a set of sterilized and clean uniforms placed in the student's wardrobe every morning. middle.

As expected by Rollins, Bullock wore only a tight black T-shirt, black trousers suitable for sports, and a pair of black combat boots.

At 29:48:233, two handsome young men from the combat department in dormitory [-] galloped across the playground that was big enough for a train to run into the school cafeteria.

The two found a random place to sit down, and the big ball with wings above their heads was shining blue light and swept them away for a few seconds, and about a minute later, the middle part of the table was opened from the inside out like a cabinet , the metal gears were turning with the track, and a silver tray was served to the two of them with breakfast.

A glass of milk, a fried egg, and a lump of sticky yellow-green unknown objects—all are matched according to each person's different physical conditions. They are absolutely healthy and absolutely difficult to swallow.

Brock looked at the shit-like thing on the plate, a little downcast, he looked around, and quietly poured the chocolate balls in his pocket into his mouth.

Rollins looked full of resentment, and he poked Bullock's spine: "Eat, eat, eat, you will know how to eat in a day."

Bullock: "I eat a lot but also use up a lot of energy."

Rollins nodded: "That's why you have big arms and round waist."

Brock swallowed his mouthful of chocolate, stood up abruptly and grabbed Rollins' hand, and a crisp over-the-shoulder throw threw him with stars all over his eyes.

He stepped on Rollins' chest and shook his head in confusion: "How can you be so annoying?"

Do you want to kill him?

Forget it, he's still a little bit useful when he's in heat.

The people around turned their heads to take a look, and then turned back with no surprise.

Murder in private is prohibited in the school, but any other violent behavior is not restrained. In this kind of place where hormonal adolescents gather together, it is abnormal not to fight.

Not to mention that it was Brock Rumlow.

One of the top five posts on the school forum all year round is called "Rumlow Beating Video Collection", professional, violent, and balanced in grasping the boundary between serious injury, disability and death.

It is also played by many instructors as an example in the classroom to students. I hope everyone can learn from others.

Rumlow is the pride of the academy, the proud disciple of the principal who imitated the master, and the only one who can make the combat department regain some dignity in front of the ability department and magic department.

Bullock withdrew his feet and continued to eat breakfast without seeing or disturbing. After 3 minutes, he got up and left, walked into the underground passage of the cafeteria, and took a short subway ride every 5 minutes to the training ground.

As soon as he got out of the car, Bullock felt the short sound of a high-speed moving object breaking through the air behind him.

He turned slightly, and a throwing dagger with blood grooves passed by his shoulder, followed by a man's broad and powerful arms.

Deadpool, one of the resident instructors of the Combat Department, is a well-known mercenary who can't die, and is also famous for his bedding that "you can get on if you are a creature".

Deadpool surrounded Bullock, snapped his fingers lightly, and said sweetly, "Good morning, my little beauty."

"You're blocking my way." Bullock pushed the instructor's hand away expressionlessly, and went straight to the shooting room without squinting.

Deadpool covered his face exaggeratedly: "You didn't say that in bed last time!"

Young birthday!The instructor is throwing a fit again!

The students around covered their eyes one by one, saying that this scene was really unsightly.

"That means Deadpool can flirt with Rumlow."

"I suspect that the instructor was the one who was raped."

"Did the two of them have an affair?"

Deadpool raised his orchid fingers and clapped his hands: "Little cuties, be quiet!"

After attracting the audience's attention, he pulled out a big smile mask from his belt and put it on his face, opened his arms dramatically, and said loudly: "The school's annual super competition is about to start !"

Since the teacher who was supposed to die while performing a mission, Mystique, who was acting as a substitute, was urgently recalled by the Brotherhood of Mutants, so the Department of Investigation could only take classes with the Department of Combat, accepting the mental pollution of Deadpool.

Emily Prentiss, an excellent student with all A's in the investigation department, a beautiful black-haired girl asked puzzledly: "But we've never had any competitions before?"

Deadpool pouted: "Sweetheart, because this year is the first one~"

"Not much to say! Let's start this year's devil pre-race special training! Let's run [-] kilometers first, and remember to carry [-] kilograms~"

Brock is enjoying the privilege of number one in the whole department at the moment. He wears earplugs in the shooting room and conducts high-speed moving target shooting training. After a round is over, the screen of his personal terminal faintly lights up his results.

Out of 97 out of 92 rounds, [-] rounds hit the fatal part.

Still not good enough, Bullock was a little upset, his three-monthly estrus was coming soon, and because he was still in the puberty period, the secretion of hormones in his body was unstable, so the doctors at the school hospital did not recommend that he use specific inhibitors to avoid estrus.

He rubbed the sore muscles in his waist, and was angry again: Fucking Omega